


Anti-Lover

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Assault, Bottom Stiles, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Established Derek/Scott, Feelings, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Slow Build, Stalking, Threeway Mating, Uncomfortable Stiles, Werewolf Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Derek have an issue with boundaries. Stiles has an issue with Scott and Derek. Especially as Stiles finds himself on the receiving end of increasingly aggressive advances. Confused and a little afraid, Stiles struggles to reconcile his feelings with Scott and Derek's behavior.</p><p>ETA: Anon commenting has been disabled (explanation in author's note.) Also, heed the warnings. (Esp. if you have non-con triggers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT ETA: It's come to my attention that people have been targeting Scott/Derek and Scott/Derek/Stiles fics with negative, spiteful comments - by which I don't mean constructive criticism, but things such as "this sucks" "you're a terrible writer" "delete this story." I have removed quite a few already and I will continue to remove these comments in future. I apologize deeply if anyone was or is hurt by them. I really want to make sure this story stays fun and enjoyable for everyone, even if it means I have to disable anon commenting. 
> 
> I will NOT be deleting or discontinuing this fic. If it takes me a little while to upload (something I don't foresee, but is certainly possible,) it is because I am sick and/or busy, not because I have given up. I encourage everyone to not engage with the negativity and just enjoy yourself. However, if you do find the comments upsetting (and I'm not able to delete them in time,) I'll be glad to post this story to lifejournal or tumblr (or even google docs/email) so that you don't have to worry about it. I just want everyone to have a good time, so let me know if there's anything I can do!

It’s a game they like to play – Stiles in the middle. The teen’s not aware of it, but Scott and Derek are, constantly shooting each other challenging looks as they conspire to get Stiles caught between them at every interval. It’s where he belongs, constantly trapped in the center of Scott and Derek’s interactions.

There’s a weird type of foreplay to it. They both like Stiles, but Scott thinks it’s the daring glances they give each other that keep the game going. It’s intoxicating, battling with Derek for touches and Stiles’ attention. He likes the way it flusters the teen, the way Stiles looks at him in confusion as he crowds up against him at pack meetings or ropes him into conversations with Derek when Stiles is just minding his own business for once. Derek does the same thing, leaving Stiles just as bewildered and out of place while they both conspire to work him right where they want him.

It’s the only way he and Derek can fight now. It’s the only thing that really works.

It’s early May. The pack meeting’s over, but Derek and Scott are still fighting, keeping Stiles trapped between them. The teen probably thinks he got there of his own accord, playing peacemaker or something, but Scott and Derek know better. They’d been working him in between them for an hour, carefully laying it out until he was practically squashed by their closeness.

“We should go after them.” Derek reiterates, glaring at Scott. They have a problem with another pack of werewolves in town and, like usual, Derek’s all about ‘claws first, questions later.’

“They haven’t done anything.” Scott says.

“Yet.” Derek counters, stepping fractionally closer. Stiles shifts, feeling their heaving chests coming in dangerously hard against his torso.

“Okay guys, why don’t we just back off.” Stiles says, trying to figure out how he ended up in this position. Again. He always seems to be caught between both of them. He doesn’t remember doing it either. He’d rather just step out and let them fight, frankly. He doesn’t really care what they do as long as they do something.

“We can’t just go after everyone that comes to town.” Scott says.

Stiles shifts, taking a step to slink away. Derek and Scott’s hands grab at him, keeping him in place, and he frowns uncertainly. He can feel their hot breath hitting him, Derek’s on his neck and Scott’s on his face.

“Why don’t we talk to them?” Stiles suggests hastily. He’s staring out over Scott’s shoulder, trying to work out what’s going on and why Scott and Derek’s hands seem to be wandering down, petting over him in weird, tense flicks of their fingers.

“It’s a good compromise.” Scott says.

There’s a pause as Derek considers it, fingers pressing into the curve of Stiles’ waist. The teen holds his breath, not fidgeting for once. He usually fidgets when he feels awkward, but he’s utterly still, frozen in place by the wolves’ proximity. Each movement has him shifting up against one of them and it makes his stomach turn in nervous cycles.

“Fine.” Derek agrees.

“Great. Good. Glad that’s settled.” Stiles says, struggling out from between them. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he’s free and stares at the space in front of him with wide, questioning eyes. That had been more intense than it usually is.

“We’re just gonna talk.” Scott insists.

Derek rolls his eyes.

Stiles shakes his head at both of them and grabs his backpack. Behind him, Derek and Scott look over, watching him quietly and exchanging looks. Derek raises his eyebrows and Scott frowns, shooting his friend another glance and shaking his head, turning down Derek’s challenge. The older wolf smirks. Scott grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes.

“You ready?” Stiles asks.

“You go on ahead.” Scott says.

Stiles blinks, looking between them curiously. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but he pushes it back. “Right. See you later.” He mutters, turning and moving to the exit.

Derek waits till Stiles is gone then looks at Scott. “We have to stop doing that to Stiles.” He says.

“I know.” Scott agrees.

Derek steps forward, into Scott’s space, and runs his fingers over Scott’s hair. “You want him.” He states.

“You don’t?” Scott asks, looking up at the older wolf.

Derek sighs, a reluctant ‘yes’ obvious in his features. “I feel like an old pervert.” He confesses.

Scott snorts. “You are an old pervert.” He huffs out a laugh and Derek gives him an unimpressed expression. “It’s just…” Scott starts. “I mean, I like it when it’s us, you know, but it feels right to have Stiles in the middle.”

Derek nods.

“And then we don’t have to fight over who gets to top.” Scott points out.

Derek snorts. “It’s my turn.”

“You said that last time.”

Scott knows Derek likes bottoming for him. He likes bottoming for Derek too, but there’s something exhilarating about topping. He loves having the other wolf under him, but part of him thinks it would be better if it was Stiles. Not because he doesn’t want Derek, but because he wants the wolf in a confusing, aggressive way. His desire for both guys is bewildering and he’s not sure what to make of it. He wants to see Derek fucking Stiles. He wants to fuck Stiles. He gets off on the idea of both of them doing the human together, turning Stiles into a disoriented mess.

With that image in mind, he backs Derek into the work table and kisses him roughly, scraping claws under the hem of the older wolf’s shirt. Derek pushes back, fighting him until they’re both wrestling on the floor, rocking their cocks together and growling into each other’s mouths.

Derek gets them stripped and thrusts into Scott. The alpha flips them, straddling Derek’s waist and fucking down onto him. Derek looks like he’s going to fight back, get back on top again, and Scott leans forward, running his teeth along Derek’s jaw line.

“You want Stiles on you like this?” He hisses, husky and guttural, in Derek’s ear. The alpha’s learned that dirty talk gets to Derek, makes him messy and pliable.

The older wolf gasps, eyelashes fluttering and hands clutching at Scott’s thighs.

“Want him fucking himself on your cock?” Scott asks.

Derek groans, head arching back as Scott moves down, biting at his throat.

“Moaning your name?” Scott gasps, body burning at the picture he’s painting. He rocks down eagerly on Derek’s dick, hitting the head over his prostate. “Think he could fit both of us?” He asks.

Derek’s hands move, scrabbling at Scott’s waist. “Fuck.” He chokes out.

Scott smiles, realizing Derek likes the idea just as much as him. “Want him to smell like us.” Scott confesses. “Want to make him ours.” The alpha gets lost in the fantasy and Derek flips them, gripping Scott and thrusting in desperately. Scott arches up, moaning and clutching at the older wolf.

Derek nips at Scott’s neck and the alpha reaches between them, fisting his own cock as he gets closer to the edge.

“Derek.” Scott moans.

“Fuck, Scott. I’m gonna-” Derek breaks off, whining.

“Come on.” Scott urges. He runs his hand over his dick and tightens his hold on Derek.

The older wolf comes, spilling inside of Scott, and the alpha throws his head back, jacking himself off swiftly. Derek tucks his face in Scott’s shoulder and tries to calm his racing heart.

“We have a problem.” Derek says.

Scott nods. This Stiles thing is getting out of hand. “Big time.”

***

The talk with the other pack doesn’t go well. Derek gets too aggressive and they end up in a full out brawl.

Scott lugs Derek up to the loft. Stiles is waiting inside and he watches the pack return, looking beaten and bloody. Derek got the worst of it. The rest of the pack follow after Scott and Stiles rises from the sofa, watching with concern.

“What happened?” He asks. “I thought you were just talking.”

“Yeah, well…” Scott mutters, taking Derek over to the bedroom. Isaac pulls the door open and the alpha disappears inside.

Stiles hovers, looking from the bedroom to the rest of the pack. Peter’s got blood on him, surprisingly. Malia seems in alright condition, as does Kira. Isaac’s been wounded.

“Everyone alright?” Stiles asks. He looks over at Malia. It’s been surprisingly not awkward since they broke up.

“Yeah.” Kira says.

Stiles looks over at Isaac. They don’t really get along, but things have relaxed a bit over the past few weeks. Since Allison it’s been hard to be truly hostile toward anyone.

“That doesn’t look good.” Stiles points out, gesturing at Isaac’s abdomen. He’s been torn through and blood’s spilling out. Stiles grimaces and looks away.

“I’ll heal.” Isaac says.

Stiles nods uncertainly. He feels like he should help the wolf but he’s not sure how.

“Stiles.” Scott calls from the bedroom. “Can you give me a hand?”

Stiles frowns but goes into the room.

“Shut the door.” Scott says.

Stiles follows directions and waits, avoiding looking at Derek. Scott’s stripped his shirt off and now he’s going for the wolf’s pants.

“What, uh…what do you need?” Stiles asks, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck and staring at the walls. Derek’s pretty torn up and it’s making him queasy.

“Help me get these off.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Why?” He asks.

“Stiles, please.” Scott says, frustrated and distraught. Stiles notices that the wolf’s fingers are shaking and he moves forward, pushing down his nerves and coming up by the bed. Derek’s eyes are open, half-lidded and glassy. He mutters something when he sees Stiles but the teen can’t make it out.

“Hey, big guy.” Stiles greets softly. Scott’s struggling with the wolf’s belt and Stiles leans forward, stilling his friend’s hands and undoing the band. “Shouldn’t he be healing?” He whispers to Scott as he pulls the belt loose.

“He looked worse earlier.” Scott says.

Stiles shudders, glad he’s not seeing that. Derek’s torn open and bloody, covered in large gashes. He’s sickly pale and it reminds him of when the wolf had been shot with mountain ash.

Scott undoes Derek’s fly and works his pants off. Stiles helps get him out of his shoes and then the werewolf’s clad only in boxers.

“Gotta get him up in the middle.” Scott says, nodding toward the pillows.

Stiles comes up to Derek’s side, struggling to find a wound-free area to grab. Derek’s hand comes up, trailing gently up the back of Stiles’ thigh and the teen glances back, frowning. Derek’s watching him, dazed, and the teen smiles uneasily.

“You ready?” Scott asks.

Stiles cringes, pushing his hand’s under Derek’s back and holding back a whimper at the feeling of blood on his palms. Derek’s skin feels colder than it should and Stiles hopes Scott knows what he’s doing, because he’s pretty sure Derek’s gonna die.

“Okay.” Stiles says. They lift and Stiles has to crawl onto the bed to help move Derek up. Derek’s hand fists into Stiles’ shirt and he lets out a rumble of pain, eyes squeezing shut. They set him back against the mattress and Stiles feels himself pulled down with the wolf. Derek’s yanking him forward, dragging Stiles down onto his chest, and the teen clenches his jaw, eyes widening as he feels himself come against slick, wounded skin. He tries to ignore the fact that he’s pressing into open injuries and is most definitely getting blood on his shirt.

Derek buries his head in Stiles’ neck, sniffing him, and the teen frowns at the bedspread. Derek must be pretty out of it.

“Oh god.” Stiles mutters. He pushes up with his hands, trying to pull away, but even in his current state, Derek manages to hold him in place. Stiles’ feels Derek’s forearm pressing along his lower back and the wolf’s hand comes up, spanning over Stiles’ left shoulder blade. Stiles feels his shirt ride up, leaving cool air wafting over his tailbone. “Scott, little help.” He says. He strains his head, glancing over at his friend who’s watching them with a guarded expression.

Scott comes forward, leaning down near Derek. “Hey, Derek, man, you wanna let him go?” He asks. Derek pulls his head out of Stiles’ neck and looks at Scott.

“Gotta heal.” Derek whispers. “Need…” He huffs, breathless.

Scott nods and looks at Stiles carefully. “I think being close to you is helping.” He says.

“Really?” Stiles asks, surprised. Derek’s nose runs along his throat and he tries to push away the awkwardness.

“Yeah. So could you just kind of go with it?” Scott requests.

Stiles debates. “Just don’t let him kill me when he wakes up.” He says.

Scott lets out a watery chuckle. “He won’t.” He says. The alpha starts to move away and Derek’s other arm flies out, grabbing at Scott’s wrist.

Stiles feels a little smug now that they’re in a similar position. “Great, threeway sleepover.” He mutters.

Scott doesn’t roll his eyes at the joke like Stiles expects. He looks away awkwardly and Stiles thinks he might be blushing. Scott settles in beside them, laying on his side and watching Derek as he holds the wolf’s hand. Stiles looks at him curiously.

“Is there something I should know about?” He asks, glancing down at the wolves’ interlaced fingers.

Scott licks his lips nervously. “It’s complicated.” He says.

“Wow.” Stiles mutters, struggling to process that. “Okay, seriously, Derek?” He asks after a second. His neck’s starting to hurt from holding his head up, but there’s nowhere for him to really lay his head. He could tuck it in the crook of Derek’s neck, but there’s blood there and the position’s too intimate.

“Yeah, I know it’s weird.” Scott says. “It just kinda…I mean, it works, you know?”

“I really don’t know.” Stiles mutters.

Scott sighs.

“Hey, dude, it’s fine. It’s illegal and weird, but yeah…fine.” Stiles murmurs. “I mean, I get it, I guess. Two hot-blooded werewolves, hormones, bonding…” He says, trying to wrap his head around it. He can’t say he wouldn’t do the same thing in their position.

“You can’t stop trying to be understanding now.” Scott says, voice tinged with slight irritation.

“No, dude, seriously, it’s cool. I’m adjusting to the idea.” Stiles promises. “It was just a momentary shock and now I’m…cool with it. You’re both attractive, one thing led to another, and now you’re doing it and I am down with that.”

“Stiles.” Scott says. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Stiles says. He lasts about a millisecond, feeling Derek trace his nose over the columns in his neck. “So, um, how long do I have to stay like this?” He asks.

“I’m not really sure. Till he’s done, I guess.” Scott says.

“Done doing what exactly?”

Scott shrugs.

“You don’t know. Great, that’s…comforting.” Stiles murmurs.

“Stiles, shut up.” This time it’s Derek that says it, growling the words out against his throat, and Stiles gulps.

“Yeah, okay.” He squeaks out, not sure if he’s imagining the scrape of teeth against his flesh. His fingers push into fists, pressing down against the comforter, and he tries to refrain from shifting restlessly. The position isn’t the most comfortable in the world and his neck’s protesting.

“Derek.” Scott says quietly. “Maybe we can get Stiles in a more comfortable position?” He suggests.

Stiles’ stomach flips at the sentence. Something about the way Scott says it – the suggestion of them working together and moving Stiles around – is bizarrely intriguing. It should irritate Stiles, because Scott isn’t talking to him or including him in this, he’s just working it out with Derek. And yeah, the guy’s injured and completely out of it, but Scott could say it differently, find a way to make Stiles feel like he isn’t some cuddly teddy bear for them to play with while still getting through to the older wolf. The weird thing is, while part of Stiles most definitely is irritated by it, he actually sort of enjoys it.

“I’m fine.” Stiles says, not sure he wants to see the suggestion followed through on.

“I think he’s gonna be at it a while.” Scott says. “Maybe we can move you on your back?”

Scott gets Derek to relinquish his hold. Stiles lifts himself, cringing at the blood stuck to his clothing.

“Turn around.” Scott orders and Stiles feels a shudder go down his spine. He shifts awkwardly onto his butt, sitting on the bed with his back to Derek. Scott pulls him back, grip strong as he manipulates Stiles so the teen’s laying on top of Derek, his head falling back over Derek’s shoulder so his throat’s bared. He feels the mattress pressing into his cranium and blinks up at the ceiling, swallowing thickly when Derek’s nose presses against his skin again. It’s a more comfortable position this time and it kind of worries Stiles, because now he has no reason to protest. He guesses he could just say the whole thing makes him uncomfortable, but Scott’s giving him that look – desperate and begging – and Stiles just goes with it. Derek’s arm comes up, wrapping around Stiles’ waist. The teen’s shirt is pushed up with the motion and Stiles protests, fingers itching to move down and cover himself again.

Scott moves, pulling a pillow and balancing it under Derek’s and Stiles’ head so the teen doesn’t strain his neck muscles. It’s comfortable and far more sensual. It also let’s Derek bury his face into Stiles’ throat with far more ease. The teen’s heart is beating louder and he shifts, feeling Derek’s pelvis press into his backside. The wolf breathes, chest expanding under Stiles’ back, and the human blinks wide eyes. He tries to tell himself this whole thing isn’t weird as hell and bizarrely intimate. Scott and Derek are dating after all, it wouldn’t make sense for Derek to be perving on Stiles.

“You comfortable?” Scott asks softly, voice close to Stiles’ ear.

The teen jumps slightly and Derek’s arm tightens around him, his palm lying flat over Stiles’ ribs and chest. “Depends on how you look at it.” Stiles murmurs.

“Stiles, no one’s gonna make you do this.” Scott says gently. “Derek’s gonna heal either way, so if you wanna take off...”

It sounds like it pains Scott to suggest it and for the life of him, Stiles can’t figure out why. He glances over at his friend, heart skipping when it causes his neck to shift against Derek’s mouth. The wolf’s watching him seriously, hovering inches away.

“It’s fine.” He says. “Just, no funny business.” He jokes.

“Okay.” Scott says, not missing a beat and sounding totally sincere.

Stiles blinks. “I was kidding.” He points out.

“Oh.” Scott says. “Well, uh, I wasn’t. So if Derek starts to make you uncomfortable, let me know.” He says, settling in beside them.

Stiles nods dazedly, brain shorting out at the small revelation that there could have been funny business. He’s sure that’s just relevant to this particular incident. It’s probably just because Derek’s so out of it.

Stiles is in silent agreement with himself on that thought process. Anything else would be too weird. He’s a simple guy, he likes girls and if he was going to do anything with a guy, it wouldn’t be Scott or Derek. And it most definitely wouldn’t be Scott AND Derek. For the sake of his friendship with Scott and his whatever-ship with Derek, he has to stick to that line of thought.

“You want a safeword?” Scott asks.

Stiles’ jaw drops. “Do I need one?”

Scott shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Stiles pauses, trying to think one up as nervous energy coils in his gut. “Red, I guess.”

“Okay.”

Stiles breathes in deep and tries not to think about how awkward everything is. Derek’s sniffing up near his ear, letting out warm puffs against his skin, and Scott’s close by, nearly pressed against him as the wolf curls up near Derek’s side. Stiles thinks about the pack outside – his ex-girlfriend and people he considers friends. He thinks about school and the girl he has a crush on in Physics. He lets his mind wander over different things, like his homework or his dad or that new video game he’s looking at. He thinks about whatever can distract him from the weirdness of his current predicament.

Despite his nerves, exhaustion and the overwhelming warmth of two other bodies has him falling asleep.

***

Stiles isn’t really a cuddly type of person. If left to his own devices, he’ll just shift away, spreading out into his own space and sleeping in all sorts of positions. It’s why Malia always had to be the big spoon – it was the only way for them to actually huddle together for the night. The one time Stiles did try to be the big spoon, he’d attempted to push the coyote out of bed and had ended up on the floor himself, lying with his feet still up on the mattress and his face turned into the carpet. He’d slept the whole time.

Scott and Derek, on the other hand, are apparently very cuddly.

Stiles wakes up, his face pressed into the mattress. The pillow’s been dislodged and he’s on his stomach with Derek up against his back. One of Derek’s thighs is between his legs, pushing against his ass and the back of his groin as he anchors him to the bed. Derek’s half-covering him, breathing hot air against the back of his neck. Scott’s on the other half, curled over him with his face resting centimeter’s away from Stiles’. Derek’s arm is still curved over his waist, pressing against naked skin. Stiles’ shirt is pushed up under his armpits, leaving his torso exposed. Scott’s arm has slunk around Derek’s and is curved over Stiles’ tailbone, looping around to his hip where he grips the teen. Stiles feels Scott’s leg over the back of his left, holding him down. Stiles’ hand is trapped under Scott’s shoulder and his arm is bent, elbow buried under Scott’s bicep.

The teen blinks in the early morning air, breath stuttering to a halt. He’s frozen in place, too afraid to move and knowing he couldn’t if he tried. He’s pretty thoroughly ensnared by the werewolves. Stiles’ heart hammers. He feels so warm and content and he shouldn’t. His nerves flare up, sparking under each point of contact. His whole body tingles and his head spins, dizzy from sensation.

“Scott.” Stiles whispers, voice choked in panic. He can barely speak right now and he hates the way the action forces his chest to shift. It’s the smallest, slightest of movements but it has his back rising against Scott and Derek’s pressure and he holds back a distressed whimper. “Scott.” He repeats pleadingly.

The werewolf hums sleepily.

“Red.” The teen says.

“What?” Scott mutters.

“Scott, _red_.” Stiles insists.

Scott opens his eyes, looking at the panic on Stiles face. “Oh shit.” He mutters, shifting away immediately and helping push Derek off.

The older wolf grumbles in protest, blinking blearily as he’s pushed away from Stiles, who immediately lurches off the bed and hurries out of the bedroom.

“What?” Derek asks, watching Stiles go.

Scott shrugs sheepishly. “I think we overdid it.” He says.

Derek’s not sure what that means, still hazy about what even happened the night before.

Stiles rushes through the living room and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and breathing heavily. He’s not entirely sure why he’s freaking out, but something inside of him is burning hot, coursing liquid desire through his veins and he feels like his world’s spiraling out of control. His chest is twisting, a pool of warmth constricting his heart and making it beat hard in his ribcage.

Stiles closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths. He tries not to linger on the tingling echo of Derek pressed against his back or Scott up on his side. He pulls his shirt down low to cover himself, reminding himself that the weight of hands on his skin is just a phantom.

He steps shakily toward the faucet, running cold water and splashing it on his face. He blinks up at his expression, taking in the flush on his cheeks and the rumpled state of his hair. He sees blood stains on this shirt and knows his clothes are probably ruined. Stiles eyes trail up from the patches of red on his tee.

“What the-” He murmurs, leaning forward and gaping at his neck. There are large bruises running down the side, starting up under his jaw and leading down to his nape. Derek gave him _hickeys._

Stiles’ jaw clenches. He pushes away from the sink and pulls the door open, stomping out into the living room.

“Stiles?” Isaac asks, watching him from the sofa. The wolf must have fallen asleep there the other night. Stiles isn’t sure if he woke him or not and doesn’t particularly care. He ignores Isaac, grabbing his backpack and his car keys. “Dude, you okay?”

“Fine.” Stiles grits out.

“You, uh, want some foundation?” Isaac asks awkwardly, gesturing at Stiles neck.

The teen holds back a shout, glaring at Isaac with wild eyes before turning and marching over to the bedroom. He slams the door open, glowering at Scott and Derek. The older wolf has pulled his jeans on now and they’re both sitting on the bed, looking like they were halfway into a serious discussion.

“Stiles?” Scott says, glancing up at him in surprise.

“I said no funny business.” Stiles snaps, pointing up at his neck.

Scott looks down at the bruises in surprise. Derek frowns at the hickeys like he has no idea how they got there.

“While I was asleep, really?” Stiles says, because that’s the only way Derek could have done it without him noticing.

“Stiles, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Scott starts, moving off the bed, and Stiles steps back, holding his hand up.

“Don’t, okay.” He says. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” He waves between Derek and Scott, “Or what this is,” He cycles his hand between the three of them, “And I don’t want to know. Just stop, okay.” He orders. “No more weird cuddling, no more sniffing, and definitely none of this.” Stiles gestures at his neck. “Capiche?”

Scott and Derek exchange a quick look before nodding.

“I’m sorry.” Derek says.

“Whatever.” Stiles replies. “I’m gonna go. I’ll…see you, I guess.” He mutters, turning and retreating out of the loft.

“Derek.” Scott groans, giving the older wolf an incredulous look. “Hickeys, really?”

Derek shrugs. “I didn’t know.” He says defensively.

Scott sighs. “At least he wasn’t too mad.”

Derek frowns, looking at Scott in disbelief. Stiles had smelled _pissed._

***

Stiles sits in Physics, chewing his thumb and jiggling his leg. He can feel the weight of the bruises on his neck. He has to keep from rubbing his fingers over them for fear of undoing the foundation he used to cover them. He sighs, knowing Scott’s at the lab table behind him, watching. Stiles glared at Scott when the wolf tried to sit next to him. He’s still irritated.

“Stiles?”

The teen jumps, looking at his lab partner with wide eyes. It’s Tina. He hadn’t even noticed. They’re supposed to be doing an assignment, but Stiles hasn’t really been paying attention.

“Oh, sorry.” He says sheepishly.

“It’s fine.” Tina replies. “You seem preoccupied. Something wrong?” She asks.

“No, nothing.” Stiles mutters.

“Did you and Scott get in a fight?” Tina asks quietly, leaning in close. “You’re, like, always together.”

Stiles looks down awkwardly. “It’s nothing. We’re just kind of…”

“Taking a break?” Tina asks.

“Something like that.”

Tina nods. “Does that mean you’re free Friday?”

Stiles looks up quickly, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m asking you on a date.” Tina says.

“Oh! Wow. Yeah, definitely.” Stiles replies. “I’m very free Friday.”

“Great. I’ll give you my number.”

Stiles grins, mood significantly improved.

***

Stiles’ date with Tina goes pretty well, although it would go a hell of a lot better if Scott and Derek weren’t following them. Tina doesn’t notice, but the wolves aren’t terribly subtle and Stiles spends a lot of the evening gritting his teeth in frustration.

He drops Tina off at her home. He gives her a quick peck on the cheek when he’s at her doorstep. He doesn’t properly kiss her and she probably thinks it’s because he’s a gentlemen, but mostly it’s because he’s too self-conscious to do anything with the wolves watching. He goes into his jeep and leans his head against the steering wheel. He thinks about calling Scott, just to tell him that he knows what he and Derek are up to, but he decides against it. He’s just got to suffer through it and hope the wolves get over their weird clinginess.

Over in the bushes, Derek looks over at Scott. “You think he knows we’re following him?” He asks.

Scott sighs, staring at his friend. He sees his forlorn, tired posture through the window and feels guilty. “Yeah.” Scott says. He knows they shouldn’t have followed Stiles. He’d been supportive of the guy’s date with Tina. He’d tried to be happy for his friend, but there’d been an itch in his veins, a growing sense of panic and concern that had him needing to trail after the teen just to make sure everything went alright. Or maybe he’d wanted it to go badly. The idea of anyone but him or Derek touching Stiles has him uneasy.

Scott thinks Derek would have been fine hanging back and letting Stiles do his thing if Scott weren’t so anxious. Derek seems to be keenly tuned to others emotions, particularly Scott’s. It’s that more than anything that drove Derek to drag Scott out to the movies so they could watch Stiles and Tina. The older wolf had less of a moral conflict about it than Scott did. Derek’s always been kind of lurky anyway.

“Should we talk to him?” Scott asks, staring out at Stiles.

“He said he didn’t want to be involved with us.” Derek points out.

“You think he meant it?”

“I think as long as he’s saying ‘no,’ it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right.” Scott says. “Let’s go back to the loft.” They’re just going to have to leave Stiles alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little Isaac/Stiles here. Also the chapter count went up by 1 because I had to split this chapter in half. Also, there are triggers for non con kissing, so please bare that in mind before reading this chapter.

Leaving Stiles alone is easier said than done.

Scott and Derek keep finding themselves working Stiles in between them during meetings and leaving casual touches that make Stiles flustered. They try to hold back and Derek’s more mindful since the hickey issue, but it’s still difficult.

It gets worse when a new enemy leads them to a semi-undercover stint at Jungle. They’re looking for a shapeshifter who’s feeding off guys in Beacon Hills. It’s some sort of vampire – maybe a succubus or an incubus. Maybe just a horny Edward Cullen type, they’re not too sure.

Stiles exits his jeep, trailing behind Isaac. Scott, Derek, Chris, and Peter go on ahead, disappearing into the club. They’ll be working Jungle solo, playing singles out for a good time while they scope out the patrons. Stiles and Isaac get to play bait, since they fit the profile of the shapeshifter’s victims. Twinks, apparently, which Stiles protested all the way to Jungle and which he’ll continue to protest to his grave.

“This has to go.” Isaac says, gesturing at Stiles’ hoodie. Isaac’s wearing a tight, blue v-neck sweater and skinny jeans. Scott lent Stiles a constrictive, long-black shirt to pair with Stiles’ typically tight trousers. The teen hasn’t let anyone see him in it yet. It’s a lacy, almost fishnet material that hugs his torso and leaves little room for modesty. Stiles isn’t sure when Scott even got the garment but he’d rather see the wolf in it than wear it himself.

Stiles sighs, unzipping his hoodie shyly and fighting back the blush on his face. Isaac pushes the sweater off when he gets impatient and tosses it into the car.

“Hey!” Stiles protests, gazing back longingly while Isaac shuts the door. The blond wolf turns to look at him, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wow.” He mutters.

“Don’t say anything.” Stiles snaps.

“No, it’s good. It looks good.” Isaac says, grabbing Stiles’ elbow and leading him into the club. Anything Stiles might have said gets swallowed up by the deafening pulse of music. Bodies writhe together on the dance floor and lights flash up ahead, beating in time to the speakers.

Isaac guides Stiles through the throng, placing them somewhere in the middle. The teen grits his teeth, feeling the urge to remind everyone once again that he can’t dance. Isaac turns around, pulling him close. Stiles lets out a breath, stomach coiling at the press of Isaac’s body against his. He can feel warmth seeping into his clothing and, when he inhales, he feels every ridge of Isaac’s abdominal muscles.

Stiles hesitantly lets his hands come up to Isaac’s shoulders, holding him awkwardly while the wolf guides him into a sort of grinding motion. It’s weird and uncomfortable and Stiles fights the urge to pull away. He reminds himself why they’re doing this in the first place and looks over Isaac’s shoulder. The wolf’s tall and he can feel his mouth pressing into Isaac’s shirt as he’s held close to the other boy.

Isaac stares out past Stiles, studying the crowd curiously while he moves the teen against him. His fingers flex around Stiles’ hips and his face presses into the human’s neck, inhaling his scent. He smells Scott mixing into it and, under that, a hint of Derek. Buried way beneath that is Peter and Isaac’s heart hammers in his chest. The pack dynamics have been confusing lately, now that Scott and Derek are sleeping together. It’s making everyone else hormonal and crazy and Isaac struggles to ignore it, even when he finds his eyes lingering on Peter or Stiles. Or Chris. Isaac catches sight of the hunter off in the distance, watching them with steely blue eyes. His pulse spikes.

Stiles starts to adjust to the dance the longer it goes, getting the hang of the rhythm and motions. He moves his hands, circling them around to Isaac’s waist and holding the wolf as he takes initiative and presses forward. He sees a guy watching them off in the corner. He’s not sure if it’s their guy or not, but he certainly seems interested. They seem to be attracting quite a bit of attention, actually, and Stiles’ stomach flips. He feels a bit of an ego boost at the lustful gazes drifting their way, but mostly he’s just uncomfortable.

Isaac burns hot, instincts responding to the way Stiles moves against him. It’s hard to stay focused when he sees the way people are watching them and feels the way Stiles grows more comfortable in his movements. Isaac turns them, shifting a bit so he can take in the right side of the club. Some older guys are watching them and they smirk at Isaac. The wolf blushes, trying to look like his attention is solely on Stiles. He turns his face into Stiles’ hair, running his lips along the ridge of his ear. The human stiffens and Isaac hears his heartbeat lurch.

The music changes, beat slow and erotic. It’s explicitly sexual and Stiles is tense. Panic pops in his veins and he struggles against the urge to run away, reminding himself why they’re there. Of course, that doesn’t mean that he has to put up with Isaac’s hands tracing over his back and Isaac’s mouth trailing over his skin. He pulls back a little, turning his head to admonish the wolf. He freezes when they’re lips hover millimeters apart.

The world grinds to a halt and it feels like an eternity stretches between them. Stiles moves to step back and Isaac leans forward, pressing his mouth to the human’s and freezing him in place. Isaac slides a hand up into Stiles’ hair, holding the teen still as he kisses him. The wolf’s not sure why he does it, but his body’s thrumming and Stiles smells so good. The human’s brows furrow and his fingers twitch against Isaac. The wolf licks at his mouth and Stiles lets out a soft noise, not exactly pleased but not exactly protesting either.

Isaac presses in deeper and Stiles’ eyes clench shut, conflicting emotions running through him. It’s weird - it’s not what he wants or what he’s after, but it’s also nice to be kissed. And Isaac’s a nice kisser. His lips are soft and warm, seeking him out with sincere, pleasant presses. Stiles’ breath hitches. Amidst a mental swarm of alarm bells and ‘shit’ and ‘what the fuck’ he remembers that he actually has a girlfriend and has to fight the compulsion to violently pull away and ask Isaac just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. They’re still trying to lure in the shifter after all, and Stiles suspects he’ll ruin it if he causes a scene.

In their respective areas of the club, the pack and Chris are watching the kiss go down with mesmerized shock. And maybe a bit of jealousy. Peter and Chris haven’t really talked about Isaac yet, but they’re both interested. Chris thinks they have to let it go, because the kid’s 17. Peter’s all for going for it, because he’s a pervert with little sense of right and wrong. Chris is having a hard time not leaning towards Peter’s line of thinking at the moment.

Derek finds Scott in the throng. The alpha’s still as a statue, his face like stone as he gazes at Isaac and Stiles with something akin to shock, but harsher. It takes Derek a moment to realize it’s betrayal, and then his chest aches. He sniffs, surpassing the smell of the hormones and alcohol to get to Scott. What he gets from the wolf takes him by surprise.

 _Fury._ Absolute, raging, bone-crushing fury.

Derek wills Scott to look at him, trying to somehow calm the wolf down from across the club. The alpha’s keeping his cool marvelously. Derek knows he couldn’t stay nearly as composed as Scott – amazing, brilliant Scott. As precarious as the situation is, Derek feels a familiar bubble of admiration hit him.

“Scott.” He says, praying the wolf hears him. “Scott, listen to me.” The alpha stiffens and his eyes flicker from Stiles for just a moment before finding their way back. “Scott, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Derek urges.

Scott hovers at the sidelines, trying to hold onto Derek’s advice. He feels like he’s only just regaining a semblance of control when Isaac’s hand cups Stiles’ cheek and Scott totally loses it.

There’s a growl and Stiles blinks as the warm body against him is replaced with empty space. He feels relieved until he looks up and there Scott is, snarling at Isaac.

“Scott?” Stiles says quietly and the alpha pushes an equally surprised Isaac away. The beta looks scared and sheepish, shooting Scott an apologetic expression before Peter’s pulling Isaac back into the crowd. Stiles’ steps back and Scott’s hand shoots out, his fist coiling into the front of the black shirt Stiles is wearing and pulling him forward roughly. Everything dips and Stiles’ shoe catches on the smooth flooring. He’s falling, the world racing by him, until he finds himself against something warm and instinctively pleasing. His face presses into Scott’s shoulder and his fingers clutch at the wolf’s torso. Scott’s arms loop around him, reeling him in, and Stiles stiffens uncertainly.

“Scott?” Stiles tries again.

“Shit, Stiles.” Scott says and Stiles glances up, not quite hearing him over the music. His friend’s eyes are brown again, he’s relieved to find. “I didn’t mean to-” Scott pauses, his eyes moving down to Stiles’ lips and his hold tightening.

Stiles struggles to straighten up, panic flaring when a flash of heat races through him. He feels want blossoming in his abdomen and he tenses, unable to handle everything pushing against him at once. Stiles shoves at Scott’s shoulder blades and the wolf stiffens.

Scott relinquishes his hold in favor of grabbing Stiles’ wrist and dragging him through the crowd. Stiles shoots a panicked look back and meets Derek’s eyes. The wolf seems lost for what to do and then he’s disappearing as Stiles is pulled into the restrooms. Stiles stumbles inside and turns, watching Scott warily as the alpha locks the door.

“Scott, man, what are you-” Stiles stops, because Scott’s slumping face-first against the entrance, his hands fisted over his head and his body twitching with angry tension.

“You let him kiss you.” Scott says accusingly.

Stiles takes a moment to process that then snorts, running a hand through his hair and looking away from his friend. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.” He notes. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his stomach flips with discomfort. He doesn’t like the way he looks in the black shirt and tight pants. Too come-hither. Too much like the kind of guy who wouldn’t mind getting kissed by Isaac and who certainly wouldn’t mind Scott and Derek giving him the sort of attention they have been lately. Stiles looks back at his friend. Scott’s watching him with narrowed eyes.

“You could have pushed him away.” Scott says.

Stiles’ jaw clenches. “Yeah, except he’s a super strong werewolf. Dude, seriously, are you blaming me for this?” Stiles asks, stepping back even further and eyeing the blocked exit warily. “You realize that’s fucked up, right?”

“I know!” Scott says, looking agitated. “I just…I’m going crazy, Stiles.”

Stiles almost moves toward him before thinking better of it. “Yeah, I noticed.” He says, nodding at the locked door. “You’re not planning on keeping me in here all night, are you?” He asks, putting a breathless laugh in there and trying to be casual. Scott looks up sharply, studying him with hurt eyes. “I’ve still got that essay to finish.” Stiles says, shuffling his feet to ease the itch in his legs. His body’s screaming at him to run for it, but he tells himself he’s overreacting. It doesn’t stop him from feeling trapped.

“Stiles, can you please take this seriously?” Scott asks.

Stiles lets out a frustrated breath. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to apologize?” He asks, gesturing in irritation and looking at Scott with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t.” Scott says softly.

Stiles deflates, feeling completely lost. “What do you want from me, Scott?” He asks helplessly.

Scott lifts a hand and nervously swipes it over his dark locks. He looks hesitantly at Stiles and back down again. He takes a moment to himself then straightens, looking determined. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.

Stiles’ breath gusts out of him and he stares as Scott in shock. “What?” He asks, mentally wondering why he’s so surprised. Scott’s been acting weird for months now, and both he and Derek have been making it pretty damn clear that they’re interested, but Stiles still feels like the rug’s been swept out from under him. “Scott, you can’t just ask me that.” Stiles says, stomach clenching when Scott steps toward him.

“Why not?” Scott asks. He keeps moving, slow and steady in his approach, like Stiles is a scared animal. Stiles supposes he is. “You asked what I wanted.” Scott points out.

The wolf has him there, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from feeling betrayed. “I’m your best friend.” He says weakly. “You don’t just ask your best friend that.” He urges as Scott gets closer. “We’re bros for life, remember? We’re supposed to play video games and go on adventures and not perv on each other in club restrooms.” Stiles says, retreating as Scott gets into his space. Stiles steps back against the wall and Scott’s standing right in front of him, warmth pulsating against Stiles’ front. “Scott...” Stiles whispers, pleading for his friend to snap out of it. Now that he’s close and they’re under normal lighting, Stiles can see how dilated Scott’s pupils are.

Scott stills for just a moment before lifting his hand. He places it gently on the side of Stiles’ face and looks his friend in the eyes. His brain feels swamped, like he’s swimming in pheromones and want. He smells the fear on Stiles, but he also scents Isaac on him too, and a streak of possessiveness has him pressing forward.

“Please?” Scott asks, looking deep into honey-brown orbs.

Stiles swallows thickly and looks over Scott’s shoulder at the exit. He looks back at the alpha, at the earnest desperation in his best friend’s face. “You know begging’s not attractive right?” He jokes quietly.

Scott’s lips twitch. “It can be.” He notes.

Stiles cringes. “TMI, man.” He says. He licks his lips nervously, stopping when he tastes Isaac on the flesh. “Just one kiss?” He asks, studying Scott’s face.

Scott nods, looking at Stiles like an addict in need of a fix.

“And then you’ll let me go?” Stiles asks. It’s an unintentional slip up where he’d meant to say ‘and then we can go.’

Scott wants to correct him. He wants to point out that he’s not trapping Stiles in here, but he realizes he is. He’s not losing it as much as he wants to, but he’s still out of control. He’s just barely holding it together and, despite knowing that Derek’s out in the hallway, trying to talk him down and debating the merits of breaking the door in, Scott’s pretty sure he’ll properly lose it if Stiles says ‘no.’ He should pull himself away and unlock the door, but instead he leans close, letting his breath gust over Stiles’ mouth. “Yeah.” Scott answers.

The human’s breath stutters and his fingers twitch. He wants to grab Scott, but he’s not entirely sure he wants to push him away, and that keeps him from going for it. He needs to want to push Scott away. The wolf’s hand slides up his waist and Stiles inhales sharply, his chest expanding against Scott’s. The alpha crowds Stiles into the wall, making him feel small and cornered.

“Okay.” Stiles whispers, trying to pretend that Scott’s not about to kiss him regardless.

Scott’s lips make contact before Stiles even finishes answering him and Stiles freezes. Scott’s gentle, touching in smooth, slight movements. Stiles’ heart thumps rapidly and he’s not sure whether to respond or not. He’s kissed plenty of times before, but never a guy (except for Isaac, he remembers, and fuck, he doesn’t know what to think of that) and certainly never Scott. He’s been interacting with this mouth platonically for almost all of his life, and now here he is, with his friendship flipped upside down and the guy that’s practically his brother grabbing onto him like a long-lost love.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and tells himself in for a penny, in for a pound. He lets his hands move to Scott’s shoulders, holding them to keep himself steady as he presses back against his friend.

 _Just think about kissing Malia,_ he tells himself in his head. _It’s just like kissing Malia._

Scott seems encouraged by Stiles’ response and gets more aggressive, sliding his tongue against Stiles’ lips. The human jumps and lets his mouth part. Scott’s wet and moist and Stiles’ face heats, burning hot as pink flesh leaves a tingling trail across his lip. Scott’s a heady, spicy flavor, overriding Isaac’s taste easily as he bursts over Stiles’ taste buds. The teen lets out a surprised whimper and his eyelids flutter.

Scott licks against him and Stiles’ chest constricts. He lets out a helpless noise, head spinning at the connection, and he clutches at Scott desperately. It’s not much, but it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. The kiss has only just started and he feels like he’s melting and tingling all over. Scott lets out a rumble and grows more eager, getting high off his friend. Stiles is just as perfect as he imagined, submitting beautifully and sending a wave of pheromones in his direction. Scott pulls him close, feeling the firm, warm lines of Stiles’ body. It fits just right against his and Scott clutches at him earnestly and slides his tongue against Stiles’. The human lets out a soft noise and Scott feels like the center of the universe, soaring and gorgeous and endless. Stiles always makes Scott feel like he can do anything and right now he wants to cover Stiles in saliva and cum and burning hot touches. He paws at Stiles eagerly, pushing against the hem of the black shirt until he can get at naked skin.

Stiles feels a layer disappear from his waist before calloused hands are sliding up his sides. Stiles jumps sharply, trying to flinch away from the touch and finding that he’s too tightly squashed between Scott and the wall. Stiles whines around the wolf’s tongue, trying to tell his friend to stop. Scott swallows the protest easily and Stiles shakes, feeling Scott’s palms move over him. His legs give out beneath him like jello and Stiles is sure he’d fall if Scott wasn’t confining him so tightly. Stiles lets out a panicked little breath, freaking out because his whole body feels like it’s on fire and he’s sure that this isn’t normal. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly. He shouldn’t be reacting at all.

Stiles realizes he could lose himself in this. He’s already starting to and he knows if it goes further he’ll be in way over his head and then there will be no going back. Stiles doesn’t want to deal with that. He doesn’t want to face what that would mean, and he lets out strangled sound and pushes at Scott’s shoulders. There’s a banging on the door and Stiles tries to focus on that and not the fact that Scott’s sucking at his bottom lip and pushing his hips into Stiles’.

“Scott!” Derek shouts from outside and Stiles thinks ‘good, yes’ and keeps his attention there and not on the hardness pressing against the front of his jeans. Stiles is a thinly wrapped ball of panic and he doesn’t understand why Scott isn’t stopping. And he’s terrified that part of him doesn’t want Scott to.

A breathless moan slips out of Stiles when Scott threads fingers into Stiles’ hair and kisses him possessively. Stiles’ ears ring and his head spins and he’s saved at the last minute by the door slamming open and Derek barreling towards them. Scott pulls away, his eyes flashing red and a warning growl slipping out of his lips. Derek grabs the alpha and Scott tries to push him away but Derek holds onto his wrists.

“Scott!” Derek growls.

Stiles, now freed, operates on instinct and races toward the exit, his strides echoing off the linoleum floor. He hears Derek shout his name in protest, but he ignores him and keeps going, motivated by the sound of Scott’s furious snarls. Stiles dashes through the hallway and out into the club. He spots Isaac, Peter, and Chris, who look in his direction curiously. Chris takes a step toward him and Stiles moves away in panic, fleeing for the exit.

His heart hammering and his nerves coiled like springs, he moves faster than he ever has in his life and makes it to his jeep in a blur of hysteria. His fingers tremble as he shoves the key in the ignition, and he almost starts sobbing in frustration until he gets it started. He tears off toward the road, mind a haze as he tries to figure out just what the hell happened.

***

Derek rather forcibly takes Scott home, pulling him out of the club and dragging the protesting alpha into the Volvo. He leaves Isaac with Peter and Chris, even though the beta doesn’t look terribly comfortable with the idea, and shoves Scott into the passenger seat. He gets behind the wheel and locks the door. An eternity of silent driving later and Derek’s parked outside the McCall home, sitting in his shut-off van and looking at the streetlamp lit house. He notes that Mrs. McCall’s asleep inside before sighing and turning his attention over to Scott.

The alpha’s stricken motionless and staring blankly out the window. Time ticks by and Derek waits patiently.

“I fucked up.” Scott mutters after a few minutes.

“You did.” Derek agrees.

Scott looks at him finally, his eyes wide and lost. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” He confesses quietly.

Derek’s snort lacks humor. “You never knew what you were doing.” He points out.

Scott shoots him a tired glare. “I knew what not to do.” He says. “I knew better than to…do what I did to Stiles.” He looks at him regretfully. “I think I assaulted him, Derek.”

“No, come on, you didn’t do that.” Derek says.

“I did something.”

Derek frowns. “Yeah, you did. And we’ll fix it.”

Scott watches him uncertainly. “I don’t think we can.”

“Stiles is gonna forgive you. Just give him a few days to cool off.”

“And then what?” Scott says, hands clenching into fists as he sits up straighter. “If I freaked out this much over a kiss, what’s gonna happen when he has sex with someone? He did with Malia, he’ll probably do it with Tina too. And I can’t just lock him in the bathroom and make him fuck me to make up for it.”

Derek studies him curiously. “Is that what you were doing?” He asks. “Making him make up for kissing Isaac?”

Scott looks away, thinking. “I think so. I was just so…jealous? I guess. I feel like…” He stops, falling back against the seat and groaning. He wipes his hand over his face. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Not disagreeing.” Derek says, smirking slightly when Scott lets out a small laugh. “You didn’t finish your sentence.” He notes. “What do you feel like?”

Scott sighs and drops his hand away, worried brown eyes meeting Derek’s in the darkness. “I feel like he’s mine.” He says, then corrects himself. “Or ours. And it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t. But it’s like, he should be with us. I know he should be, but he’s so stubborn.”

Derek’s expression shifts, something like knowing coming into his face.

“What?” Scott asks, suddenly suspicious.

“He’s not the only stubborn one.” Derek says softly, lips twitching. Scott huffs and rolls his eyes. Derek watches him for a moment before sighing. “It won’t change anything, but…” He starts, resting a hand on the steering wheel and tapping his thumb against the leather. He seems to debate continuing before shaking his head and going for it. “You remember how I told you about mating?”

“That whole compatible werewolves thing?” Scott asks, still skeptical.

“Yes.” Derek says impatiently. “You and me, for instance.” He says.

Scott feels a blush heating his cheeks. “I thought you made that up to get in my pants.” He says, giving Derek a lopsided grin while the older wolf looks at him in disapproval.

“I didn’t.” Derek says.

Scott puts his smile away and tries for serious again, still extremely doubtful but playing along for Derek. The guy tends to take his werewolf lore really seriously. He can be pretty intense about it.

“I didn’t tell you everything.” Derek says. He didn’t tell Scott much of anything actually, because the teen was too busy being a dick.

“You’re gonna say Stiles is our mate, aren’t you?” Scott says, catching up far too quickly for Derek’s liking. Sometimes Derek takes a moment to be really relieved that they’re allies now. The kid’s way too smart.

“More yours than mine. But yeah.” Derek says.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks.

“Polyamorous matings are complicated.” Derek answers, saying ‘complicated’ like it doesn’t even begin to cover it. At Scott’s pointed look, Derek reluctantly elaborates. “I don’t know the full history of it, but alphas would take omega mates. They’d use them for sex and then neglect them. Betas would come in and take care of them and somewhere along the line, they’d become mates too. But it was more…passive. More about giving the omegas what they needed.”

“Stiles isn’t an omega.” Scott points out.

“He’s as good as.” Derek says. “You feel it, don’t you? You want to dominate him.”

Scott swallows thickly and fights the heat coiling in his gut. Derek’s right. Even as he thinks that Stiles isn’t an omega, Scott can feel his wolf screaming its desire to claim him like one.

“But you want him too.” Scott points out, confused. “Don’t tell me you don’t.” He says, because he knows how much Derek wants Stiles.

“I do.” Derek says, and it sounds like there should be a ‘really’ in there.

“But?” Scott prompts.

“But I’d be okay if it was just us.” Derek says. “When I’m with you, I don’t feel like something’s missing.” He continues, and to a passerby it would sound like a romantic statement, but Scott hears the accusation underneath. He looks away guiltily, because he cares for Derek deeply, but there’s this empty space that he can’t deny.

Derek’s hand finds Scott’s across the seat and squeezes comfortingly. “It’s okay, Scott.” The older wolf says. “It’s how these things work.”

“How do I stop it?” Scott asks.

“I don’t know if you can.” Derek admits.

Scott looks away thoughtfully, his jaw clicking as he thinks. “I will.” He says, determined.

“Scott…” Derek starts warningly. The alpha looks at him, and Derek knows he’s lost when he sees the sheer resolve in Scott’s gaze.

“I will.” Scott insists. Derek nods and really hopes for all their sakes that Scott manages to swing this one.

After a quick goodnight, Scott exits the vehicle and heads up to his room. Derek looks out his windshield thoughtfully, debating with himself before starting the car.

***

Stiles is lying in his room, changed out of that godforsaken twink outfit and into his baggy, comfortable pajamas. He feels a little more himself, if shaken and down a few friends. He’s on his side, staring out into the darkness of his room as the seconds slowly trudge past. He sniffs, but he doesn’t cry. He’s not even sure what he’s so upset about at this point. The whole evening had been a disaster. It would help to talk it out, but it’s not like he has anyone to really turn to with this.

Stiles watches the clock change and sniffs again. “Dammit.” He mutters as his eyes drip. He rubs at his face stubbornly and tries to shake himself out of it. He wants to be mad and stoic, but he’s too tired. Not tired enough to fall asleep, unfortunately, which has left him with little else to do but wallow.

Stiles pushes out of bed and shuffles over to the bathroom. The light shines far too bright compared to the black of his room and he squints at his reflection, taking in the red rim around his eyelids and the ruddy flush of his skin. Grumbling a curse to himself he turns on the tap and splashes cool water on his face. Afterward, he swooshes mouthwash for the third time that night, trying to get the lingering taste of Scott out. He spits and looks in the mirror, gazing into his visage and wondering how he looks so unchanged when he feels so different. His emotional landscape’s been altered significantly, but physically he’s just the same old Stiles.

He lifts his hand, prodding lightly at his neck. He splashes some water on his palm and wipes the foundation off. The hickeys from Derek are mostly faded but there are a few faint marks, barely even dots and probably not visible to anyone but Stiles. He’s half-certain that he’s just imagining them at this point. Stiles presses delicately, wishing he could magic the blemishes away with each stroke of his fingers. Sighing, he drops his arm and gives his reflection one last look. He shuts the light off and shuffles back into his room, feeling defeated.

Stiles notices a chill gust in from the open window and frowns. He moves over, closing the pane and faltering when he sees a Volvo parked outside. There’s movement in the glass, an image appearing behind him.

“Stiles.” A voice says and Stiles jumps, turning with a shout. “Hey, easy.” Derek says, holding his hands up and waiting for the teen to calm down.

“What the hell man?” Stiles says, and god, he’s so frustrated. After the day he’s had, the last thing he needs is Derek sneaking up on him in the darkness.

“Sorry.” Derek says, catching Stiles off-guard. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“Bullshit.” Stiles snaps.

“I’m not lying. I just came to check on you.” Derek says.

Stiles looks at him suspiciously and moves around the wolf. His heart’s still thumping a little too quickly and his body’s shaky. He glances at his bed briefly, fighting the internal longing to just lay down because he’s so exhausted. He looks away quickly, keeping his attention elsewhere so his fatigue doesn’t show. Not that Derek wouldn’t pick up on it anyway with his freaky werewolf senses.

“I’m fine.” Stiles says.

They both know it’s a lie, but Derek goes with it easy.

“Is that all you wanted? Because I’d kind of like to be alone now.” Stiles says. It’s another lie.

Derek sighs. “Stiles, lay down.”

Stiles stiffens, defensive at being ordered around and doubly defensive at the weirdness of the demand. “Not you too. Look man, I’ve been molested enough today.” He says, letting his weariness show in his tone.

“Stiles, just lay down.” Derek orders, sounding equally strained.

Stiles studies his silhouette for a moment then huffs, stomping over to his bed. He hovers at the edge for a moment before laying down and turning on his side, facing his back toward Derek.

“Thanks, I can take it from here.” He says when Derek makes no move to go. He hears an irritated exhale behind him and internally groans. “Seriously, Derek, this is my room, can you just-” Stiles is cut off when the bed dips. Stiles shifts to rise and Derek pushes him back against the mattress.

“Relax, Stiles.” Derek says. “I’m not gonna do anything. Just go to sleep.”

“You’re being incredibly creepy right now. Even by your standards.” Stiles says, staring ahead of himself with wide eyes.

Derek sighs. “You’re anxious and upset.” He says. “I could feel it from across town.”

Stiles’ brows furrow. “Feel it? What are you-”

“It’s not important.” Derek interrupts. “Just, if you need to talk, talk. If you need to sleep, sleep. Do whatever you need to relax.”

Stiles frowns. “And you need to be here for that because…?” He prompts.

“I’m trying to comfort you, dumbass.”

“Well you’re doing one hell of a job.” Stiles mutters. His arms are crossed over his chest protectively and his body’s taut. “Are you sleeping here?” He asks.

Derek hums and when Stiles glances back, the wolf’s laid back against the pillow with his eyes closed. Stiles turns around and settles into the mattress, grinding his teeth.

“You’re too tense.” Derek says after a few moments.

“Can you blame me?” Stiles asks, looking back to find Derek’s eyes open and his gaze trained on him. “The last time we slept in the same bed, you gave me hickeys while I was unconscious.”

“I was injured.” Derek says defensively.

“I know and I’m not exactly eager to find out what you’re gonna do at full health.” Stiles says.

“Will it make you feel better if I leave?”

“Probably.” Stiles mutters. “It usually does.”

Derek rolls his eyes, having the audacity to look like Stiles is the one being a nuisance. “I’m not going to touch you unless you want me too.” He says.

“Good.” Stiles grumbles. “Because I don’t.”

“Okay.” Derek says, relaxing back against the bed.

Minutes of silence go by and Stiles holds back shivers. Derek’s on the blanket and Stiles is too stubborn to ask him to move off so Stiles can warm up. He’s surprised when the wolf lets out a snort and rises on his own, moving the blanket and covering Stiles with it.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Stiles mumbles. Derek gives him a look that says ‘please’ and gets back on the bed. Stiles glances down, noticing Derek’s shoes are still on. “You should take those off.” He says. Derek gives him a questioning look and Stiles stiffens. “I don’t want you getting my sheets dirty.” He says, because Derek’s comfort level is the last thing he cares about.

The wolf unlaces his combat boots and sets them at the end of the bed frame. Stiles stares ahead at his wall and holds his breath as Derek gets under the blanket with him. Stiles wants to protest, but he’s starting to resign himself to the idea that this is going to happen regardless of what he has to say. Besides, Derek’s like a furnace, and it should be unpleasant, but body heat is just about what Stiles needs at the moment. Derek settles in behind him and Stiles has the oddest desire for the wolf to spoon him. He shakes it off and chews the inside of his cheek, trying to calm his racing heart and settle the nerves unfurling in his gut.

“Derek.” Stiles says quietly.

The wolf hums.

“At the club, what Scott did…” Stiles says, picking his nails nervously. “Why did he…?” He trails off, not sure how to describe the wolf’s actions.

“Kiss you?” Derek finishes.

Stiles shrugs, figuring that’s as good as anything. “Yeah.”

“It’s complicated.” Derek says.

Stiles huffs and turns onto his other side so he can face Derek. “But you know the answer.”

“Yes.” Derek says.

Stiles waits for the wolf to go on, but he doesn’t. “You said if I wanted to talk, I should talk.”

“I did.” Derek admits, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

“Doesn’t work if you don’t participate, jackass.” Stiles points out.

Derek grits his teeth before relenting. “He got jealous.” He says, looking over at Stiles. “And he lost control.”

“It was pretty intense.” Stiles notes.

“It could have been worse.”

Stiles stiffens, not liking the sound of that. “You’re saying he showed restraint?”

“A lot of it.”

Fear prickles along Stiles’ spine. “Why’s this happening, Derek?” He asks.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” Derek asks.

Stiles looks at him in confusion. “What?”

“Just answer the question.”

Stiles thinks about it. He supposes he does. Secretly, he’s always thought of Lydia as his. “I guess.” He says.

“You’re like that for Scott.” Derek says.

Stiles furrows his brows, startled at the bizarre statement. “What about you?” He asks.

“You’re like that for me too.” Derek says.

Stiles’ stomach clenches and he has the strongest urge to punch Derek in the face. “No, I meant, you’re the one who’s dating Scott, so what are you?”

“You can have more than one mate.” Derek explains softly.

“But I thought soul mates were supposed to be all hearts and flowers.” Stiles points out, thinking the whole thing sounds ridiculous and terrifying. “Like, you complete each other and live happily ever after.”

“It’s a little different for us.” Derek says.

Stiles snorts ruefully. “Of course it is.” He grumbles. Werewolves suck. “What about Isaac? Am I his mate too?”

Derek snorts. “No.” He says.

“Then why did he-”

“Because he’s an idiot.” Derek says, sounding bitter.

Stiles doesn’t want to examine that one too closely, a little afraid of why Derek’s so frustrated with the beta. “This isn’t happening.” Stiles mutters. The whole thing’s too far-fetched.

Derek studies him. “You should be careful, Stiles.” He warns gently.

Stiles frowns. “Because of Scott?” He asks.

“Not just Scott.” Derek says.

“You wouldn’t-” Stiles starts, but he doesn’t get to finish because suddenly Derek’s flipping him onto his back and hovering over him. His body ripples with strength and Stiles’ heart hammers a fearful rhythm in his chest. He stares up at the wolf with hurt and disbelief.

“I would.” Derek confesses.

Stiles’ voice catches in his throat and it takes him a few moments to get it working again. “Get out.” He finally manages, putting as much vitriol as he can into the demand.

Derek lingers a second before pulling back. Scooping up his shoes, he goes to the window and climbs out of Stiles’ room, leaving the teen lying frozen on his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the lateness. I realized where this story was going originally didn't work anymore, so I had to rewrite. I ended up rewriting about 7 times, hence the lateness.
> 
> Plus, I got horribly and unexpectedly sick. But updates should be more regular now.

Scott’s a wreck. He sits on Stiles’ doorstep, staring at the pavement and feeling sympathy for the dirt below. He’s dug far past rock bottom, he thinks. He’s done something he can’t possibly ask forgiveness for, but he’s about to do it anyway.

Stiles doesn’t answer when he knocks, but Scott knows he’s there, standing on the other side and waiting for him to leave. Scott takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He should leave. He knows he should. Not only to give Stiles space, but because the sheriff’s home. Scott passed his car coming up the driveway and his mind is screaming at him to just leave Stiles alone and be patient, but Scott can’t.

He runs a hand over his forehead, frustration and a pounding headache confusing his senses. His facial muscles flicker and he stiffens, pushing the wolf back down.

When he’d first got bit, Scott always thought of the wolf as separate, a parasite that had riddled into his system. As time passed, he’d started to realize he is the wolf, that it’s his instincts coming to the surface and he just needs to maintain control. Now, he’s not so sure anymore. This want for Stiles, this inability to think around him, it isn’t Scott. Not entirely at least.

Scott leans back against Stiles’ house. “Stiles.” He calls, hoping he’s loud enough for his friend to hear. Stiles is just right there, separated from him by mere inches of building material and glass. Scott can hear his heartbeat, already rapid and increasing at the sound of his voice. It’s confirmation enough that the human can hear him.

“Stiles, I’m sorry.” Scott says. He feels like an asshole for saying it, for expecting it to make a difference. The worst part is that his actions still make an odd sort of sense to him. Instinctively, it felt like the right thing to do, and he wonders if he’s really lost touch with himself that much, that he’s really not sure if he regrets what he did or how Stiles reacted to it. He knows, on a human level, that what he did was horrid, but a large part of him howls in approval. A dark part of him wishes he’d gone further, then maybe Stiles would be by his side right now instead of hiding at home. It’s the kind of thing Peter might think and Scott buries it down deep.

“You deserve better. I shouldn’t have done what I did and if I could take it back…god, I’m so sorry.” Scott says, sincere and heartbroken. “I wish I could tell you why I did it, but I can’t, so I’m just gonna back off, okay?”

There’s a pause.

“Stiles?” Scott says, because he just wants to hear his friend’s voice.

“Scott, please. Just go.” Stiles says, quiet and weak. Concern twists with Scott’s guilt, making him ache. “No, dad, it’s fine.” Stiles says and Scott feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

***

Scott and Stiles have been through a lot. They’ve survived middle school, almost three years of high school, werewolves, kanimas, supernatural hunters, alphas, and more life-threatening situations than Stiles cares to count. They’ve had individual trials and joint trials, and their friendship’s stayed strong. The closest they’ve come to ending it is when Scott and Lydia kissed after Scott first turned, and if a kiss didn’t break them then, it’s certainly not going to now, not after all they’ve been through. But Stiles needs time.

He tries to say that, tries to form the words to tell Scott how he’s feeling, but his dad appears, standing at the edge of the entryway and watching Stiles anxiously. The teen is leaning against the wall by the doorway, his head resting against the plaster and his knees curled up to his chest. Distress shows clear on his face, accompanied by a haunted sort of exhaustion, as though contemplating something nightmarish and draining in equal measure.

“Stiles?” Scott asks on the other side of the door. The sheriff’s eyes widen and Stiles shudders, feeling horribly ashamed.

“Scott, please.” He whispers, knowing Scott can hear him easy enough. “Just go.”

“Stiles.” The sheriff says, taking a step toward him. His hand flickers, like he’s reaching for his gun on instinct, even though he’s in his pajamas. Stiles looks at him in a panic.

“No, dad, it’s fine.” He says hastily, wishing that his father would give him some privacy. Stiles wishes he could have just faked it, could have just pretended everything was okay, but Scott’s cornered him again, and now the sheriff’s looking at him like he’s in trouble and needs protecting.

The sheriff’s jaw clenches and he stomps toward the door. Stiles rises quickly, trying to stop his dad, but the man moves past him, pulling the entrance open and glaring out at the porch. Stiles peers hesitantly over his shoulder, but Scott’s gone.

“You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Sheriff Stilinski asks, turning to face his son. He shuts the door and Stiles flinches, stepping back. His father looks at him with concern.

“We just got into a fight, that’s all.” Stiles says. “We’ll be fine.” He promises. “I just need a break.”

“Another one?” The sheriff asks, frowning. Stiles’ brows furrow and the man sighs. “I’m not stupid, Stiles. You were barely talking to him a week ago and now you’re fighting again. Is there something I ought to know about?”

“We’re not in any danger, if that’s what you’re asking.” Stiles says.

“That’s not what I meant, but it’s good to know.” His dad replies. “You wanna talk to me, kiddo?”

Stiles looks at his father, at a loss. “What do you do when someone you care about starts going in a different direction than you?” He asks quietly, uncertainly. He’s trying to phrase it delicately, so his dad can’t pick up the hidden meaning, but he worries something’s gotten lost in the translation.

The sheriff looks at him sympathetically. “It happens, son.” He says. “People grow apart.”

Stiles feels panic furling in his gut. “But me and Scott…” He says, because they can’t grow apart. He couldn’t do it without Scott and he’s pretty sure Scott couldn’t handle any of this without him either. Even if he’s apparently got Derek by his side now, and Stiles is maybe more bitter about that than he’s let himself admit.

“Stiles, I don’t know what’s happening, but it seems to me you got two options.” Stiles’ father says. “You can either touch base with him and find a way to make it work, or you can let things go the way they’re going and risk losing him.”

Stiles stares ahead dismally. The sheriff gives him a comforting pat on the arm.

“It’s a big world out there, kiddo.” He says, eyes full of encouragement. “You’ll be going to college soon. There’ll be other Scotts.”

“No there won’t.” Stiles says quietly.

The sheriff gives him a pitying smile and squeezes his shoulder. “I know it feels like that now, but…” The sheriff pauses then shakes his head, like he knows he’s not going to convince Stiles otherwise. “If you really feel like that, well…he came all the way here to apologize. Seems to me he’s just waiting on you.”

Stiles’ father doesn’t realize how true that is.

“You should talk to him, before things get worse.” The sheriff suggests. He walks away, leaving Stiles to his thoughts.

Stiles knows that if his father actually knew the situation, the intimate details of it all, his advice would probably be far different, but he takes it to heart anyway. It’s better advice than he’d have gotten otherwise.

***

Stiles chickens out. He doesn’t even go to school. Instead, he waits for his dad to leave for work, and then he starts looking into all the files he’s supposed to keep his hands away from.

He’s poking around in his dad’s office when he suddenly freezes, a fearful prickle running down his spine. He turns, letting out a surprised shout when he sees Derek standing in the doorway. He drops the file he has in his hand.

“What the hell, man?” He asks. Derek raises his eyebrow and Stiles shifts uneasily, his mind flashing to last night. He looks away, bending down to pick up the papers. Derek steps forward and Stiles stiffens, hating how cornered he feels.

“Relax.” Derek says.

Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek huffs, bending down beside him and helping him pick up the folder. Stiles frowns, glancing at him. Derek’s a few inches away, not unnaturally close but still too close for comfort.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asks, irritated.

“I came to apologize.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Really?” He asks, taking the papers from Derek and standing. The wolf rises with him and then Stiles is between the desk and Derek. He’s not squished and Derek’s not doing anything he wouldn’t have done months ago. The wolf’s always been a little too into Stiles’ space anyway, but Stiles is still cautious. He leans back against the table and crosses his arms, trying to maintain some sense of control.

Derek nods in response to his question and Stiles waits. Seconds tick by and he lets out an amused breath.

“Was that it?” He asks, because it’s a pretty shitty apology.

Derek sighs, looking put upon. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“Wow, not forgiven.” Stiles replies, unimpressed.

“Stiles…” Derek almost growls.

“What you did last night? Do you treat Scott like that?” Stiles asks, concern for his friend translating into anger on his expression.

Derek narrows his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about how I treat Scott.”

Stiles doesn’t, and it scares him. “That’s why I asked.” He says.

“No.” Derek replies. “I don’t treat him like that.”

“Then why me?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know.”

The simple admission has Stiles deflating. “I don’t understand.” He says. “I’m trying to, but…”

Derek looks at him with what seems to be sympathy, and if it is, Stiles doesn’t fucking want it.

“I can’t do this, Derek.” He says.

“You haven’t tried.” Derek points out.

Stiles falters. Derek’s right, he supposes, he really hasn’t given this a shot. It’s flawed reasoning at best, because Stiles thinks he’s in a fair position to say what he can and can’t do when it comes to sex with his friends, but he really doesn’t _know_.

“I am sorry.” Derek says, more sincere. “You deserve better.”

It’s the second time Stiles has heard that today and he looks up at Derek, anxious. He glances away again and licks his lips, a nervous tick. His fingers shake and he struggles to steady his nerves, unable to believe that he’s actually about to do this.

“Would you…” He stops, hesitating. He closes his eyes a brief second to get himself together then looks at Derek. “Would you kiss me?” He asks.

Derek’s eyes widen marginally. The expressions shifts into a frown as he asks “Stiles?”

“I just need to know.” Stiles explains, resigned to the action. They can always go back, but he’d like to at least give himself the opportunity to move forward with this, whatever it is.

“Yeah.” Derek says. He seems nervous as he steps forward, and Stiles feels slightly relieved that he’s not alone there. Stiles’ breath freezes as Derek presses close to him. The wolf lifts a hand, placing it on Stiles’ cheek, and the teen’s skin heats under the pads of Derek’s fingers. Stiles feels shy and his eyes cast down. Since they’re the same height, he just ends up staring at Derek’s lips. He gulps.

It seems like forever before Derek leans forward, mouth gently covering Stiles’. He feels facial hair against the corner of his lips, too coarse to be ticklish but not coarse enough to be painful. Stiles’ heart hammers in his chest.

He never thought, in his wildest dreams, that he’d kiss Derek. Even the hickey episode, which seems surreal and unlikely (especially when he wasn’t even conscious for it,) didn’t give him an inkling that he could, or would, kiss Derek. But here he is, with his mouth against the werewolf’s. They’ve had an intense relationship until this point, and the simple press of lips seems like an egregious breach of their usual dynamic, so Stiles presses back a little harder. He’s too out of his depth to do anything further, but fortunately Derek isn’t so inhibited.

The wolf moves against Stiles, whose closed eyes clench under furrowed brows. Derek nips lightly at Stiles’ bottom lip and the teen’s breath stutters to a halt. He doesn’t open his mouth though, and Derek slides his hand down, pressing his thumb to Stiles’ chin and persuading the teen to yield to him. Stiles’ fingers flex and when he opens himself to warm, soft flesh his hand flies up to clutch at Derek’s shirt, finding it under the wolf’s leather jacket.

It’s still awkward. Stiles is still frozen in place, unable to really give himself over to the kiss, so Derek clutches the back of his neck and practically starts to devour Stiles in frustration. It’s just this edge of painful and the teen lets out a startled noise, twisting both hands into Derek’s Henley.

The wolf licks at his mouth and sucks at his bottom lip. His scruff moves against Stiles’ face, leaving tingling scratches on his flesh. Stiles shudders, a desperate sound escaping him. Derek’s hand curls around his waist, holding him sandwiched between him and the desk, and Stiles arches against the hold. His knees tremble, the kiss sending waves of something going right to his toes.

Were Stiles inclined to dominate the connection, he’d be hard-pressed. As it is, it’s difficult enough to respond in even small increments. He pushes back ever so slightly and lets his tongue move in the small space Derek allows him, but he’s otherwise stuck in the position of submitting to Derek’s ministrations. Stiles is appalled to find that a large part of him – likely the same part that responded favorably to Scott’s actions at Jungle – is hopelessly pleased by this.

Stiles isn’t sure how long the kiss lasts, but it’s far too long, judging by the flash of heat he feels travelling to his dick. It’s then that Stiles panics, shoving at Derek’s chest and letting out a scared moan. The wolf retreats immediately and Stiles stumbles. He presses the back of his hand to his mouth and blinks distressed eyes as he rushes back, retreating from the desk and putting several feet of space between him and Derek.

The wolf’s face is flushed and his lips are wet. He breathes just a fraction heavier and Stiles feels sick anxiety wriggling in his stomach like a colony of worms.

“Stiles?” Derek asks.

Stiles can’t breathe. He hadn’t been prepared to react so strongly to the kiss. He feels like he’s swimming in pheromones, his brain fogged over with heat and want. The kiss was supposed to help, was supposed to make him feel better about this mate thing, but now Stiles is terrified, watching Derek with overwhelming distress. His body shakes from echoes of the connection and he presses his hand harder to his mouth, trying to get his kiss-bruised lips to stop tingling.

“It can’t work, Derek.” Stiles whispers behind his knuckles, breathless and horrified. He blinks and a tear falls down his cheek. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why he’s reacting so hysterically, but he can feel himself pulse with want and his brain swarms from all the implications. He just kissed Derek Hale. He just kissed Derek Hale and it turned him on, and everything that he and Derek and Scott built in the past year is crumbling away.

More than that, Stiles knows, is he’s not ready for this type of commitment. And he knows, both instinctively and logically, that if he enters into this thing with Derek and Scott, he can’t fuck it up. Not only because ‘mates’ sounds pretty serious, but because he can’t afford to lose Scott. Or Derek, he realizes with a start. He’s more scared of the former than the latter, but he recognizes that Derek’s important to him too. For whatever reason, the wolf’s wormed his way into Stiles’ life enough that he doesn’t think he could handle a serious relationship with the guy going south.

“I don’t even like guys.” Stiles says. It seems like a pathetic hang-up, but it’s an important one. Stiles is straight and that’s going to have an impact on this.

“Stiles.” Derek says, taking a step toward him.

“No!” Stiles shouts, freaking out. He shakes his head. “Go away. Please.” He gasps. Derek nods and Stiles turns, hiding his face and burying a shuddered exhale into his fist. God, he’s pathetic.

The door creaks as Derek goes to exit. Stiles, on the precipice of totally losing it, listens dismally as there’s a pause. He’s about to shout at Derek to leave but is stopped when the wolf speaks.

“I love you.”

Stiles freezes. The world dips, falls out from underneath him. He looks over his shoulder, brows furrowed and mouth open in confusion. He meets Derek’s serious gaze and his heart pounds. “What?” He asks quietly, voice thick with unshed tears. He can’t believe Derek would say that. He’s sure now that he’s looking Derek will chicken out and Stiles will be able to convince himself that it didn’t happen, but the wolf repeats it, his mouth moving around a phrase that Stiles wouldn’t have believed him capable of saying.

“I love you.” Derek says, steady and sincere.

Stiles can’t think of a time when someone other than his family said that to him. Certainly, no one’s ever said it with the same sort of intention before, and Stiles is beyond stunned that the first person to do so is Derek of all people.

“Why?” Stiles says. That’s not supposed to be the end of the question, but Stiles stops short, unable to pick which direction he wants to take that sentence and lacking the capacity to vocalize it anyway. Unfortunately, responding to someone who’s just said ‘I love you’ with ‘why,’ however unintentional, is a rather dismal thing to do and Derek looks at him sadly.

“You should get some rest.” The wolf advises before leaving the room. Stiles stares after him, speechless.

***

The next day, Stiles is leaning against the bike rack outside the high school, chewing his fingernail nervously and looking at the sidewalk. He’s just had his break up with Tina and it had been harder than he’d expected. He’d really liked her.

Stiles is waiting for Scott now, settled near where Scott’s dirtbike is parked. His mind jumps over scattered notions – of Tina, of Scott, of all the weirdness around them - before bouncing back to the same memory he’s been turning over for two days.

_I love you_

Stiles had spent hours in a fog after that. He’s still trapped in one, but nerves are lifting it slightly, allowing him to form somewhat coherent thoughts. He has a lot of questions for Derek, mostly consisting of ‘what’ and ‘how’ and ‘dude, seriously, what,’ because none of this makes sense.

At the same time, Stiles can’t deny that he feels a bit better. It could be shock or it could be something else, but an odd sort of calm is looming, pressing in on him every time he remembers Derek’s face and the way he’d said the words. Stiles can’t make heads or tails of the whole mate thing or Scott and Derek’s odd courting up to this point, but ‘I love you’ is something he understands. He might not know exactly what Derek expects from that revelation, or even if he’d been genuine, but it’s something Stiles hadn’t realized he’d needed to hear.

Of course, he’d have preferred something more along the lines of ‘I was just kidding about the whole mate thing, everything’s back to normal,’ but if he can’t have that, then ‘I love you’ is...better.

Stiles feels heat pushing at his cheeks and realizes he’s dangerously close to blushing. He sighs, wondering why all of this makes him feel so vulnerable. He can’t say he’s the most confident guy in the world, but he’s usually comfortable with who he is. Now he feels like he’s lost track of that. He wants, for the first time, to change who he is, to change the things he wants and the way he feels.

However much Stiles is reacting to what Scott and Derek are doing, when it all comes down to it, he doesn’t want it, not really. It’s not that Stiles still has his heart set on Lydia, but he’s still committed to the fantasy of finding the girl for him and having an epic love story. He doesn’t think he’s ready for marriage and all the stuff he dreamed about when he was chasing Lydia, and he won’t be for a long while, but he’s ready to be so caught up in a girl that he thinks about it anyway. He wants the romance and the fairy tale. He wants long hair and glossed lips, and when sex is on the table, he wants soft skin and breasts and curves.

He’d loved what he’d had with Malia. He’d liked what he’d been building with Tina. He just can’t see himself seeing Derek and Scott in the same way and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to admit. He’d always said he’d do anything for Scott, but he just doesn’t know if he can do this. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice comes from nearby and Stiles looks up. Isaac’s moving away from his place behind Scott, fleeing to give them some privacy. Of course, it could have something to do with the look Scott shoots him, and Stiles is more than a little sure that Scott’s being jealous over him. It’s…odd.

“Hey.” Stiles greets, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

Scott takes a step forward then hesitates.

“I, uh, I just broke up with Tina.” Stiles reveals. Scott looks at him guiltily.

“Because of me?” He asks sadly.

Stiles shakes his head. “I mean, a little.” He admits after a second, because Scott will detect the lie. “But it’s not like it was gonna work out, you know? Not without me telling her the truth.” He says. The pack as a whole struggles with whether or not to tell the people in their lives about werewolves and what goes on in Beacon Hills. This wouldn’t be the first time one of them broke up with someone over it.

“I’m sorry.” Scott says.

“I know.” Stiles replies.

“I mean it, Stiles. I messed up, bad.” Scott says.

“Dude, who hasn’t?” Stiles says. Given all the things he’s done over the past year alone, he’s hardly one to judge. Hell, he killed people. He’d been possessed, but still, he remembers all of it. He remembers stabbing Scott, and if the wolf could forgive him for that, he thinks he can forgive Scott for this. “Anyway, from what I hear, you were so out of it you could have done a lot worse.”

Scott shakes his head, half-denial and half-terror. “No.” He says. “I wouldn’t.”

“You would, Scott.” Stiles says, remembering Derek’s words and actions from two nights before. “But it’s okay.”

Scott frowns. “No, it’s not. I assaulted you, man.”

“Assault?” Stiles echoes incredulously. “Dude, you kissed me.” He corrects. He knows the definitions, he knows how other people would see it, but he ignores that. This is Scott he’s talking about. “And it wasn’t even a bad kiss. But…we need to talk about this.” He says.

“Yeah, Stiles, of course.” Scott says.

“Scott, I…I don’t think I can give you what you want.” Stiles confesses. “This whole mate thing, it sounds intense.”

“You’ve been talking to Derek.” Scott notes. Stiles nods and Scott huffs, coming over and leaning next to him against the bike rack. “Man, don’t listen to him.” He says.

Stiles looks up, surprised. “Why not?”

“Because werewolf lore’s weird.” Scott decides, not unkindly, just matter-of-fact. “You really think we’re all destined to be together?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Since when were you cynical about it?” He asks.

Scott looks away, frowning, and Stiles realizes. _Allison._ Scott doesn’t say that though. What comes out of his mouth is a lot less heart-wrenching.

“Dude, I’m dating Derek.” Scott points out. “I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s annoying.” He says. “He snores and he sleeps with his socks on and he doesn’t know anything about video games.”

Stiles doesn’t snore, he definitely doesn’t sleep with his socks, and he is all about video games. He blinks, looking away.

“How can he be my _destiny_?” Scott asks.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “If you feel like that, why are you dating him?” He asks curiously.

Scott’s face softens. “He’s nice, he’s hot. We talk about books and life and pack stuff. He understands stuff that I can’t talk to other people about.” He says, looking down. It’s clear on his face that he likes Derek, a lot.

It’s also clear to Stiles that by ‘other people’ Scott mostly means him. It’s true, Stiles doesn’t get it. Scott’s tried talking to him before, but being a werewolf, and an alpha no less, is far beyond Stiles’ understanding. Derek would understand though.

Stiles is starting to see where, for Scott, he and Derek would fit together to complete the picture.

“Do you love him?” Stiles asks.

Scott’s eyes widen and he looks at him in bewilderment. “Love?” He repeats.

Stiles nods.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Scott confesses, looking away.

“Do you love me?” Stiles says.

“Yeah, man.” Scott replies. “You’re my best friend.”

“You know what I mean, Scott.” Stiles says.

Scott frowns, thinking. Time passes and Stiles sighs.

“I’m not looking for a yes here, Scott.” Stiles says. “I just want to know where you stand.”

Scott looks at him sheepishly. “I don’t know.” He admits. Stiles nods. It’s good enough for him. He sighs, leaning against the bike rack and staring out at the parking lot.

“I don’t want us to stop being friends.” Stiles says.

“Me neither.” Scott replies, watching him.

“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Stiles says earnestly. Scott’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to reply, but Stiles barrels on. “If we did this and it didn’t work out, I couldn’t forgive either one of us.” He looks at Scott seriously.

“Stiles, we don’t have to do anything.” Scott says.

“I think we do.” Stiles admits.

“No we don’t.” Scott insists. Stiles looks at him, at his slightly pale skin and his red, sleepy eyes. He appears frazzled, like he’s barely holding it together. Stiles leans toward him, ever so slightly, and he hears the way Scott’s breath hitches. Stiles almost kisses him, but he holds back, watching Scott’s eyes slip shut.

“We do.” Stiles says, seriously. No matter how much they deny the mate thing, it’s happening, and Stiles knows that the next time Derek pushes him, he’ll probably end up giving in. If not then, certainly the time after that. Even if he doesn’t, it would be distressingly easy for Derek to overcome him anyway, and Stiles figures he might as well bring Scott along for the ride. He sighs and leans back and Scott blinks his eyes open. They seem clearer now, more intent as they take him in. “Who knows how long we’ll be able to keep this werewolf shit up, dude.” Stiles says quietly, voicing hidden fears. “We lose people all the time.” He points out. Just recently Deputy Parrish got caught in the cross hairs. His dad’s still looking for a replacement. Not a lot of people are eager to fill the position.

Scott frowns, loss reflected in his eyes. Liam ran away a couple months ago and Scott’s taking that one pretty hard too.

“I don’t want to spend whatever time we’ve got fighting.” Stiles says. That’s the thought that finally broke through the panic and drove him to come here in the first place and now that he’s voiced it out loud, it’s firming his resolve.

“Me neither.” Scott admits sadly.

“I can’t make any promises.” Stiles says. “And I’m not saying this doesn’t freak me out. But if it’s what you need, then let’s do it.”

“I don’t want you to do this for me.” Scott says.

“I’m doing it for all of us.” Stiles says, and he has no idea how he’s staying so steady while he says this. It’s not that he’s suddenly come around to the idea, but he sees no point in resisting the inevitable. He just hopes ‘fake it till you make it’ works here too.

“Even Derek?” Scott asks, surprised. It’s no secret that Stiles kind of hates the werewolf.

It’s been Stiles’ secret for a while that he actually kind of doesn’t. Derek’s irritating as sin, but he’s also kind of funny and he has a great habit of keeping Stiles alive, so the human’s come to reluctantly care about him. Especially when Scott’s off saving the day and Stiles, almost inevitably, gets his ass in a bad situation.

_I love you_

“Yeah, even Derek.” Stiles says. He can feel his cheeks heating and really hopes Scott doesn’t notice. Judging by the way the wolf’s eyebrows are raising, he has no such luck.

“Stiles?” Scott asks curiously.

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably.

“Was it consensual?” Scott asks.

Stiles frowns.

“You’ve got beard burn on your face.” Scott explains, gesturing at his mouth.

Stiles groans. He’s thought it had faded by now, but of course Scott would be observant enough to notice the small traces left. Stiles lifts his fingers, pressing into the tender skin like he could rub the marks away. “Shit.” He curses.

“It’s not that bad.” Scott says. “It looks good.” He admits and Stiles flushes.

“I was just…It was just a kiss, we didn’t…” Stiles feels partially like he just cheated with Scott’s boyfriend and partially like he’s been caught with his pants down. It’s a weird duality, both inspired by his position as a friend. He’s not sure how he should feel as their mate.

“It’s fine, Stiles.” Scott says. “You can do whatever you want with him.” He says. “As long as you tell me about it.”

“Oh.” Stiles mutters. “Oh, well, good.”

“Did you like it?” Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Kind of.”

Scott nods. A silence falls over them and Stiles looks down, thinking. He’s supposed to be telling Scott about everything, so he opens his mouth.

“He, uh, he said something. After.” Stiles admits. He’d like to keep it to himself, just something between him and Derek, but Scott’s in this too and Stiles thinks it’s only fair that he share.

“Yeah?” Scott prompts.

“He said…” Stiles looks up at Scott tentatively. “You know, that thing you say to your mom when you’re ending a call.”

“Goodbye?” Scott says. He looks alarmed for a second and Stiles stares at him, unimpressed.  

“Yeah, man, he said goodbye.” Stiles replies sarcastically.

“Well if it wasn’t that…” Scott says, thinking. There are really only two things he says before hanging up on his mom. The second option pings in his brain a moment and then his eyes widen.

“Yeah, that one.” Stiles answers before Scott can ask.

“He…Wow.” Scott says. Derek’s never said that to him before, and he won’t deny that he’s a little bit jealous. He’s also happy for his friend and his wolf’s fucking ecstatic, because all it can think is ‘mates, mates, mates’ but his wolf’s fucking dumb and Scott’s ignoring it. “How do you feel?” He asks cautiously, unsure how to react.

“I don’t know.” Stiles says. “I mean, it’s Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“But, you know, it’s _Derek._ ” Stiles says, and he can hear the words echoing in his brain again. His heart stutters and he hears a small breath of laughter. He looks at Scott to see him smiling softly, brown eyes twinkling. “What?” He asks.

“You totally liked it, dude.” Scott points out.

“What? No I didn’t.” Stiles protests. A little too defensively, Scott notices.

“You did.”

“Shut up.” Stiles mutters. Scott watches the tips of his ears go red. “It’s just, it’s nice to hear.”

“Yeah, it is.” Scott admits, memories of his own love confessions filtering through his brain. He wonders what it would be like to do that with Derek too. He’s not there yet, though, not even close, and Derek understands that. They’ve both had relationships end disastrously. “So, how’d he say it?” Scott asks curiously. He’s enjoying Stiles’ embarrassment a little too much, but this is also a side of Derek he’s never seen before. He wishes he’d been there.

Stiles groans, covering his face. “I don’t know, man. He just said it.”

“Hey, he’s my boyfriend.” Scott points out.

Stiles drops his hand and gives Scott an irritated look before relenting. “I don’t know, I was kind of freaking out after the kiss and then he just blurted it out. I wasn’t sure until he said it again.”

“He said it twice?” Scott says, surprised. He hears Stiles’ heartrate go up, a nervous staccato at the memory. Pheromones waft off him and Scott’s stomach gives happy flips. He thinks Stiles wants this far more than he realizes.

“I think he was probably trying to calm me down or something.” Stiles admits.

“Seems like it worked.” Scott points out.

“Yeah.” Stiles says, frowning as the realization hits him. “It kind of did.”

“You guys gonna go on a date?” Scott asks.

Stiles lets out an incredulous laugh. “A date? With _Derek?”_

Scott’s slightly hurt by that, but he stamps it down. “He could take you to that new Batman movie.” He suggests.

Stiles looks at him with wide eyes. “Dude, are you setting me up with your boyfriend?”

Scott shrugs. “I was gonna go with Derek tomorrow but I’m busy at the clinic.”

“Scott.” Stiles says warningly.

“He can pick you up. Or you can meet him there.”

“Scott.” Stiles repeats.

“There’s a nice restaurant nearby.” Scott continues.

“Scott, no.”

“He’ll buy. And his favourite bookstore’s down the street. They have good comics, if you wanted to look around.”

Stiles stares at his friend like he’s lost his fucking mind.

“You said you wanted to do this.” Scott points out. “Might as well give it a shot.”

He’s right, Stiles has to admit. “Okay.” He relents quietly. “Yeah, okay, I’ll go to the movies with Derek.” He says.

Scott beams.

“Are you sure you’re fine with us going without you?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah.” Scott nods. “I think I need some me time anyway.” The truth is, he plans to ask Deaton to help him work on his control so he doesn’t have another Jungle incident, but he doesn’t want Derek or Stiles to know about it. It’s not fair, keeping secrets, but he doesn’t want them to think he can’t handle it. “I’ll let Derek know and tell you what time.” He offers.

Stiles nods, figuring it’s only natural that Scott arrange that, since it’s his idea. “God, what am I gonna tell my dad?” He whispers.

“The truth?” Scott suggests. Stiles stares at him in disbelief. “Just say you’re going to the movies with a friend.”

“Maybe we can go the movie theatre in Parkerville.” Stiles mutters.

“That’s an hour’s drive.” Scott says. “Stiles, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s whatever. I’m almost 18 anyway.” Stiles says.

Scott’s silently glad that his mother’s so cool about this. He knows she doesn’t like it, but given everything Scott’s been through, she’s not protesting.

“God, I can’t believe I’m gonna go on a date with Derek.” Stiles mutters.


End file.
